


Matinal

by fraisemilk



Series: Onomatopoeia [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraisemilk/pseuds/fraisemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinpachi's morning routine, or: watching the city wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matinal

**Author's Note:**

> être matinal: to be an early riser.

This is how it goes:

On the first six days of the week, Shinpachi leaves the dojo as his sister just starts dozing off to sleep. Sometimes he can greet her before leaving – her smile tired, her eyes half-closed, her gestures already sinking in the deep slumber of sleep.

The street is always very quiet. The Sun isn’t high enough to reach the pavement of the streets, but it tints the houses’ walls with gold and warm brown and makes the dew-covered roofs glisten. Shinpachi loves to raise his head and watch the sky, watch as it gradually turns from grey dark blue to clear yellow blue. He likes to guess if the wind will be strong by the clouds’ pinkish colours. Even though it is all very quiet, there is always a rhythm, a chanting coming from the city, and he can listen to the sound it makes as it awakens, to the slow growing rumble of opening stores, of closing night bars, of people shifting in their kitchens or still snoring in their beds. These noises stir something in Shinpachi’s chest every time he hears them, no matter how many hours he has spent just listening to them. They make his ribs vibrate and his stomach’s tremors match their uneven beat – an incantation for the Sun and a call of life itself, bringing the city and its people into another day, something brand new that has yet to happen.

On early mornings, Edo is as much a normal city as it can get. At this hour, with its extraordinary inhabitants either gone to sleep or not woken up yet, there is only Shinpachi. Only Shinpachi, there, walking on the wet pavement, feeling cold air rushing in his lungs, the Sun’s ray brushing the top of his head in a silent benediction. He occasionally waves a hello to familiar faces (the old man selling dangos, the woman and her son opening a store, the neighbour’s orange cat). It goes a little different on winter mornings, when people grow more tired and less willing to wake up as early when the Sun still has a few hours before showing up. Shinpachi walks quicker on these mornings, jogs to warm himself. Greeting people is different on these days, too. As if the dim light isn’t connection enough and the absence of the sunlight pushes people to seek one another; he fills with them the gap created by the cold with small talks, moves closer to them, hiding his smiles behind his scarf and his hands in his pockets. Winter brings people together; that is also a fact he learns when he finally reaches his destination. On winter mornings, he doesn’t find Kagura in her closet. Instead, he finds three bundles in Gintoki’s room – a man, a child and a dog, all sleeping close to each other. No matter the scolding Kagura and Sadaharu will get when Gintoki wakes up – for now, Kagura hugs his left arm and he hugs her back, Sadaharu lying against his legs. Three bundles make one; Shinpachi lets them sleep a little longer, until the Sun starts reaching the windowsill and Sadaharu’s white white fur.

On Sundays, Shinpachi doesn’t get up as early, nor does he haste to get ready and go out. He stays under his blanket a few minutes longer than necessary – gets up feeling drowsy and sleepy. On Sunday mornings, he belongs to the morning like everyone else. Makes his own small racket; entering the kitchen and making breakfast; greeting his sister and taking the time to enjoy small talks with her.  He takes part in the rumble and the rhythm of the city he will only contemplate on other mornings.

Thus, waking up early has its rewards. He feels glad to watch the world wake up. It makes him feel even more strongly how much a part of him the city is. But sometimes he is too tired to watch the sky; sometimes the clouds hide the light; sometimes his face and his feet and his hands feel cold. On these mornings he looks at the three bundles of sleep and shivers. Three bundles make four: he falls asleep between a giant dog and a girl, and lets warmth wash away the city’s noises and the shill of the wind; the morning routine will be for later. Shinpachi dozes off, his head lying on an elbow and a paw.

Four bundles make one.

**Author's Note:**

> It's always great to be an early riser. 
> 
> The description of the city's awakening comes from personal experience. I'm always haunted by the thought that other people have other morning routines than my own and lives that are entirely outside of my own existence. It's a good haunting. 
> 
> This will be part of a series entitled "Onomatopeia". I haven't really decided precisely what it'll be about - something along the lines: the gintama characters waking up / in a state between death or sleep and life or a woken state. Mmh. 
> 
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated !
> 
> (tumblr: da-da-daaa)


End file.
